The aftermath of the explosion left the hall shrouded in smoke and silence. Adam stood frozen, his eyes darting between the debris and the crumpled figure of Pratham near the far wall.
The air carried the acrid smell of burned metal and flesh, a haunting reminder of the devastation UV1 had wrought.
Mikasa stirred, her movements slow at first. Her injuries had healed entirely, the deep gashes and burns on her body now just faint marks.
With newfound strength, she pushed herself off the ground and turned her gaze toward Pratham. Her heart clenched at the sight of him—wounded, vulnerable, and barely conscious.
She rushed to his side, her voice trembling as she cradled him in her arms. "Pratham, are you okay?" she asked, her tone laced with concern.
Pratham's eyes fluttered open, heavy with exhaustion. His breathing was shallow, his body battered and bruised.
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